Opening the Word: We grow when we are bothered by Jesus

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Sermon on the Mount
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Joshua WhitfieldTo be nervous about holiness, to fear being a saint, is normal. Don’t be embarrassed; we’re all a little bit nervous about it from time to time. Even we clergy can get that way. Beware of the priest not being honest about such fear. Changing for the better, growing in Christ: it’s literally an awesome thing. It should make us nervous.

We drag our feet, hesitate and hedge our bets; we shy away from it sometimes, and sometimes we straight up run away. That’s just the way we are on occasion. It actually belongs to the tradition. “Grant me chastity, but please not yet!” That was St. Augustine, wasn’t it? Nicodemus was interested in Jesus, you’ll remember, but he sought him out only when it was safe when no one was looking when it was dark (cf. Jn 3:2). The rich young man was interested in Jesus too, but he walked away sad; he was afraid to give up his riches; he was so close to eternal life (cf. Mt 19:22). And Jonah, well he jumped on the first boat out of Joppa (cf. Jon 1:3). He wanted nothing to do with what God wanted him to do.

February 12 – Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sir 15:15-20
Ps 119:1-2, 4-5, 17-18, 33-34
1 Cor 2:6-10
Mt 5:17-37

To be a little nervous about God’s call is nothing new. Whether it’s the initial call to repent, the sometimes frightening sense of one’s vocation or the persistent awareness that I must change my life, apprehension or even vacillation is understandable. As the martyred Lutheran theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” That’s frightening. At first blush, we don’t like the idea. Nervousness here is normal, especially when the Christ we encounter is real. Again, because it’s an awesome thing.

In our Gospel readings these past few months, we’ve anticipated Christ, celebrated his birth, wondered at his epiphany and watched the beginnings of his public ministry. Now, as we’ve begun to hear Jesus preach — his Beatitudes on the mountain, his call to be salt and light — the question is whether we’ve fallen in love with him enough to trust him enough to hear the hard and challenging truths he desires to give us. Can we hear what Jesus has to say about violence? Can we hear what he has to say about adultery, divorce, lying and truth-telling? Can we hear about what sort of people we Christians really ought to be — peaceful, truthful, chaste, monogamous? Are you starting to get a little nervous? I am. As I said, drawing near to Christ — especially the biblical Christ in truth — is an awesome thing.

This is why the first question is about whether you’re ready to listen. How will you hear Jesus? Yes, of course, these quite sobering verses from Matthew’s Gospel must be interpreted — and the Church guides us here — but they must not be interpreted away. Be very careful of the temptation to interpret the Scripture into submission. Preachers sometimes are tempted to do just that, and sometimes, we want our preachers to be tempted to do just that. What Jesus is saying here hits like a baseball bat, and who, on a Sunday morning, wants that? But still, nonetheless, the question remains: Are you ready to listen? How will you hear Jesus? Do you want a Catholicism of false sentimentality or a Catholicism of liberating truth? That’s another way to put this question. Another way to put it is to ask whether we really want to hear Jesus say anything at all. Do we? Do you?

You can tell whether you really want to hear Jesus by asking yourself a few questions. For instance, can Christ tell you no? Can he tell you you’re wrong? Can Christ call you a sinner? Can the Church tell you any of this at all? Do you let Jesus annoy you? Or, do you keep him at such a distance that Jesus doesn’t bother you at all? Hopefully, he does bother you, for that is actually a sign of moral and spiritual growth. As I said, drawing near to Christ is an awesome thing. Nervousness is normal.

So, may this Sunday make you a bit nervous. Hopefully, the Gospel reading will have that effect. May Jesus bother you a little. And again, don’t be embarrassed; don’t worry about it. For that just might be the stirrings of grace, to be annoyed by the Christ who loves you so.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.